


In his voice I heard decay.

by BigScaryDinos



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Character Study, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Not Beta Read, Past Abuse, Schizophrenia, Self-Harm, Teeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-20 20:44:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21062918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigScaryDinos/pseuds/BigScaryDinos
Summary: Character study ; sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands ; intentionally disjointed."...dreams where you lose teeth are typically associated with feelings of powerlessness and loss of control..."





	In his voice I heard decay.

Starts with his hands touching the sink, dirty & cold & real under his fingers; still greasy with paint. It seems too real to slip through his fingers. Too much to hold onto. Too much to let go. Unfamiliar pains inside his chest that feel like leaving something behind. Something that isn't his. Was never his.

It’s not real. Doesn’t seem it at least; the air is too cool to keep sucking down at such toxic speeds. High quantities. His mind splinters into fragments. Shrapnel. Fallout.

_ You know you’re my boy._ It rings in the small room, real or imagined. He doesn’t want to think about it. It is a deepness, the voice and a shame. His mouth feels too busy, too many people living inside of him. Inside his head. Inside his mouth. His fucking mouth. _ You know that right? _

He pulls against the white under his fingers & it doesn’t move, not an inch. Must be movable and pliable. It’s like smoke, he’s not a boy, not a man, not even a person. He just is sand, a sack of sand that sneaks between wooden boards even with his mouth open & open & open.

His mouth is stretched wide open in the darkness with a locker behind his back. It’s dark. It’s ice on his back with all it’s bruised skin. _ I told you that you could pay me back later. I told you. _

_ I told you . _His mouth hurts. His mother screams in his ears. She says his father will protect him. He has no father. Sand is not born. Creatures are not created in this way. His mother’s voice rings like a bell. Bell - bell - bellow. She bellows. She is a ship coming towards his craggy rocks. She will crash & break apart like he is. His hands are inside his mouth. They are not his own, they are thick and hard and it is not himself. Is this funny? It’s all funny or else nothing is. 

But he is not himself, he is only sand - a beach under the hot sun someplace far - far - far - far from here. Too far to reach with his disgusting grabbing fingers.

_ My boy . _ Too much and his fingers find a purchase in a piece not of himself. He pulls & pulls & pulls. His hands are not on the sink or his mother’s face or the ocean with its wind. He is not anything at all. His is not Randall or Penny or Bruce or Arthur. He is - is not. He is moments strung together with floss and lightning. Godly. Not all at real or imagined but a thing. Just a thing.

All made of dust and flecks of skin. Fleck. Fleck. 

_ Mr. Fleck we have some questions . _ That isn’t right, no more cooks inside this kitchen & the doors are shut & his hands pull. One finger rigged around a particular intruder white. Mouthy. Fuck.

_ You know I told you. _

It is there. Porcelain. Red. White. The purest piece of himself is the intruder and he may be the boy that lives pinned & abused & terrible & evil but he has the capacity to be a home for this. A miracle. A shuttle of sorts and either it is all funny or nothing is at all.

Blood streams down the cracked lines of his mouth. Brown. Not at all like the movies. Not at all like paint. Not at all like a gunshot. Disgusting. The white smeared to his neck. Blood streams between his legs and pools on his dirty socks. Blood cakes his fingers. Blood in the sink. A sacrifice to the questions. White. Mouthy. He smiles into a broken mirror and laughs - one less tooth inside. 

**Author's Note:**

> god I loved this movie.


End file.
